


Entwined

by DameMond



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Pining, also big spoilers kiddos, and thus this was born, bit of angst, lots of pining, pinch of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9113176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameMond/pseuds/DameMond
Summary: And what Ignis wouldn't give to feel Noctis' skin under his fingertips, to feel the prince's smiling lips kissing the palms of his hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All I have to say is: I made a huge mistake and finished FFXV. Gods, I'm in tears and _in Hell._
> 
> Focused on one of my fav pairings: Ignoct, with this advisor pining for his prince like there's no tomorrow. I am a self-indulgent ass.

He had started wearing gloves after his slip at nineteen, when his hand had brushed the prince's by accident while helping him carry his bags to the car.

Noctis had paid no mind, not relating both things and simply thinking Ignis had decided to change his style. He hadn't questioned his roommate wearing them even at their place, not taking them off for cooking even. _New style_ , he had assumed.

Ignis had been _terrified_.

His thoughts of adoration for the prince were crossing a dangerous line that threatened to choke him every time he felt Noctis' eyes on him, every time Noctis spoke to him and every time he let out one of those rare laughs near his presence (and by the Six, Ignis felt as if he'd been blessed). He found his voice cracking, his eyes wandering and his hands sweating, but the harder the pressure in his chest kept tugging him the more he resisted.

Noctis was the prince of Lucis, he was just his _advisor_. This... _crush,_ or whatever Ignis had (Six, was he terrible at it) had to end for the good of his relationship with Noctis and his sanity at work.

Sharing an apartment with him wasn't the best setting for Ignis' situation if he wanted to cut its roots.

He should have realized it wasn't a teenage crush.

He should have realized he adored the prince.

He should have left and _think_ when he'd had the chance, but being away from Noctis ended up being physically painful for him so the thought always ended up scrapped in the back of his mind.

 _Six above_ , Ignis had whined, miserable and _hopelessly lovesick, what did I do to deserve this?_

_When did this even begin?_

Not Ignis himself was sure of it.

When? And to his mind came Noctis' eyes, Noctis' voice, Noctis' terrible jokes and his pouts when he sulked, Noctis' small smile when he smelled one of his favourites being cooked...

He had been doomed from the very start, hadn't he?

 

-

 

Ignis wasn't jealous.

He didn't believe in the feeling of something twisting in his stomach whenever Gladio and Prompto touched Noctis so _freely, so careless_ , as if touching him wouldn't make their throat dry or their stomach leap or their _hands burn_. He wasn't jealous of them, he repeated himself and he knew he was right, yet the accusatory voice in his mind spoke for him.

_You're jealous that they can touch him wihout remorse._

Ignis had never wanted to bash his head against the wheel of the Regalia so badly.

 

-

 

Noctis, on the other hand, touched him _a lot_.

A tap on his shoulder that send a jolt down his spine, a playful poke when he was feeling in higher spirits that made Ignis smile despite himself, a tug on his sleeve that gave Ignis flashbacks of their tender days when they were younger and the shyer Noctis wanted to get his attention... So many brushes of his skin against Ignis' clothes, playful and _innocent_ , from friend to friend, from _prince to advisor_ and nothing more.

Yet Ignis found himself thinking of how much he would give to be able to cup the prince's face in his hands without his gloves and guilt, to entwine his hands with his and have those beautiful eyes look at him the same way Ignis caught himself looking at Noctis.

The man knew it was a lost cause; his duty came first and he loved Noctis too much to put such an emotional burden on him. He'd swallow his wishes, his feelings, keep his heart and mind where they should be and see Noctis safe to Altissia where he would wed Lady Lunafreya and he would serve Noctis until the end of his days. His perfect plan, free of any guilt or remorse and always wearing his gloves.

But said prince just _had_ to send his plans tumbling down a hill as one night, he sat down close to Ignis, lips trembling, shoulders shaking in fear ( _of what, my dear prince? I will guard you from it)_ and stated:

"I don't want to marry Luna."

Ignis simply glanced at him, brows knit and expecting him to continue because he didn't find himself able to think a proper reply at all, and what good was him as friend— _advisor_ —if he couldn't guide him through his tasks ahead? His mind was spinning, trying to think and Ignis felt so out of place—

Until Noctis wrapped his arms around him, buried his face in Ignis' chest and cried.

Ignis' breath hitched, his blood frozen and warmth spreading all around his body, feeling the faint blush coming up to his face and _thank the Six it's dark_. He released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and finally, _finally_ , shutting out the voice in his mind that was screaming at him not to do it for both his well-being and the prince's, he wrapped his arms around Noctis' smaller form and held him tight.

Ignis still didn't get his gloves off, holding on to the thin rope that assured him he wasn't completely lost to Noctis _yet_.

Noctis' shoulders shook for a while while Ignis prayed to the heavens his heart wasn't loud enough for the prince to hear. Noctis sobbed softly for his home in Insomnia, for his father, for his destiny to come that _he didn't want_ and Ignis cursed that couldn't protect him from all that.

What good was he for, then?

Fear changed to frustration as Ignis held Noctis even tighter against his chest, placing his chin atop of his head with Noctis' hair tickling his jaw, a hum escaping against his will.

He thought he felt Noctis nuzzle his neck at one point, but he let the thought go for the well-being of his sanity, even if it made the knot on his stomach and the pressure in his chest _hurt_ as if he'd swallowed his own daggers.

Ignis didn't say a word as the prince's breath softened until Ignis could barely hear it anymore, his body limp in his arms. Noctis had fallen asleep.

_Well, aren't I doomed._

 

-

 

Neither of them commented on what had happened, not even on how Noctis had magically appeared in the tent the next morning covered in blankets and hair brushed off his face.

Ignis' gloves were beginning to burn on his skin.

 

-

 

Noctis kissed Iris' hand. It had been just a formality (and to piss off Gladio), but the sight made his head race and wonder if Noctis would ever kiss his hand as well, if just for a blessed second Ignis would be able to feel Noctis' skin underneath his hands without any remorse or regret, without being prince and advisor, just _Ignis and Noctis._

To feel the prince's smiling lips kissing the palms of his hands and then caress his face—

 _Gods_ , he scolded himself, _I am worse than Prompto._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the same voice that had warned him not to hug Noctis laughed at his internal despair.

 

-

 

Fate sure loved to play with him.

He had to go and get _blinded_.

It had been barely two weeks since Lunafreya's passing, since Noctis had retreated into his shell and since Ignis had last seen the Sun— _Noctis_.

This was supposed to be their last week until they set out from the remains from this, once beautiful, cursed city, and Ignis had been suffering the silent treatment from everyone even if they didn't mean to. Gladiolus felt too guilty, Prompto felt too confused and Noctis felt too miserable. Ignis was supposed to be the voice of reason in this case, but he honestly felt as if he had been muted as well. They'd been waiting for Ignis, to see if there was any improvement with his eyesight, but alas...

"The wounds have mended," he'd said, not commenting on his eyesight's improvement. That had been enough for him. "We need to move out."

None complained.

Now he was sitting in their hotel bed, half of him silently thanking some parts of Altissia had survived for them to recover from the blow while the other half cursed his luck.

A hand slowly touched his back and Ignis almost jumped off the bed; he'd been so distracted he hadn't heard the steps into the room.

"Hey," hearing his prince's voice after so long set his body at ease. "You doing alright?"

Ignis chuckled. "As alright as I can be considering my situation, your Highness. I still haven't fallen off a balcony by accident, so I'm assuming it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

His attempt at humour was met with silence and Ignis wondered if he'd been able to pull a small smile out of the prince.

Gods, he wished he could see—

"Iggy," Noctis' voice sounded hoarse, tired. "... can I hug you?"

Ignis didn't think it twice this time. Everything that had gone down horribly wrong since they had gotten to Altissia, the silence, the burden, the guilt that sometimes barked at him that _if he had been more careful, he'd have both his sight and his prince safe and with a smile_ and not with the miserable expression Ignis painted in his mind following Noctis' voice.

So he let him, because he was feeling lost as well and allowed Noctis' arms to be his anchor, holding him by his waist, at least this once.

Ignis felt tired, so tired...

He heard a sniffle and felt something moist on his shirt. His own breathing became shaky as Noctis wept once again into his chest, and this time Ignis cried with him.

"Please, your Highness," Ignis tried not to wince and how his voice sounded when shaking so badly, gloved hand already lost in his hair. "You're making me cry as well."

Noctis' voice came muffled from against his shirt and the very sound of it tore Ignis' heart apart. "I'm s-so sorry, Ignis, I should've stayed with you a little longer... p-perhaps," he hiccuped, "perhaps I would've been able to avoid this mess..."

Ignis ran his hands down Noctis' back, trying desperately to give any sort of comfort. He no longer felt guilty, at least for the moment, damning the Six for everything. "I can manage, Noct. Don't worry about me."

"Don't—" Noctis pulled away from his arms _too soon_ , sounding almost offended. "Don't tell me not to worry about you, Ignis. I lost my friend, we destroyed a whole city, I _blinded_ you—"

"Last time I checked, you weren't the one that threw that bomb in our direction when I was taking cover with Gladio," somehow Ignis managed to sound stern, but he regretted it the moment he opened his mouth. "Your highness, if I have to give up my eyesight for you, then _so be it_ —"

"I don't want you to give up your eyesight for me, Ignis!" This time Ignis was sure the Noctis' tears he felt falling on his legs were out of anger. "I wish for you to be safe! I want all of you to be safe!"

 _Not yet_ , Ignis thought, _not yet_.

He didn't want to tell him that _a King always pushed forward, no matter the consequences_ , not yet. Noctis wasn't ready, still mourning, wounds still fresh and bleeding both in his flesh and soul and the ring heavy inside his pocket.

Ignis remained silent, looking down and carefully wiping away the trails of his tears over his cheeks, minding the fresh wound that was still healing...

Until he felt Noctis' hand gently taking his own away from his face and running his thumbs across his cheeks instead. Was he kneeling down in front of him?

"Noct...?"

"Ignis," Noctis replied, gentler and way closer than he had thought before pressing his lips softly below the scar on his eye.

Ignis forgot how to breathe, let alone talk.

He didn't even protest as Noctis grabbed his hands in his, pulling away the gloves and placing Ignis' hands on his face.

Ignis had _dreamed_ about cupping Noctis' face in his hands, like a lover to his beloved, just not like this; messy, tired and _blind_. He wished he could see Noctis' face as he let his thumbs run across his prince's cheek this time, his nose, below his eyes... and his lips.

His fingers lingered there for a while longer, feeling Noctis still as a statue with an expression Ignis couldn't paint in his mind.

His prince turned his head just enough to kiss his hand, grabbing his wrist gently just in case Ignis jerked it away, but he didn't. Noctis' thumbs drew cirles around Ignis wrist and gently guided them down his jaw, collarbones and shoulders.

Ignis, however, went back to Noctis' cheeks, drying his prince's tears as he felt him lean into his touch.

"Your hands are warm, Ignis." He heard Noctis say, drowsy, with a hint of a small smile.

"Hmm," Ignis whispered after stopping to regain his thoughts. They were both emotionally exhausted. "Perhaps I've been using gloves for too long."

"You should take them off more often," as if to prove a point, he kissed his palm again before burying his face in the crook of Ignis' neck, the latter lamenting having to let go so soon. He searched for Noctis' shoulder, but he found Noctis' hand instead and his fingers entwined with the prince's without hesitation.

Silent, slow, steady, they were opening their wounded hearts to each other.

Ignis leaned down with a simple wish in mind, but Noctis beat him to it as he pressed a soft kiss against his lips, fingers still entwined, afraid to let go. Noctis squeezed and he squeezed back in a silent promise, never breaking the kiss that was slowly healing their hearts.

"Iggy," Noctis almost whined, desperate and shaky against his advisor's lips. "Don't ever let me go."

Ignis squeezed Noctis' hand in return, feeling a bit lighter than he had during the last days.

"Never, Noct. I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, what wouldn't Ignis give to feel Noctis' skin beneath his fingertips?
> 
> He gave up everything for a lifetime with his beloved, but in the end _it wasn't enough._


End file.
